


Stuffed

by BlueRobinWrites



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Cormoran's Love Language Comes Out To Play, F/M, Fluff, Post-Troubled Blood, The Perfume™, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:52:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRobinWrites/pseuds/BlueRobinWrites
Summary: Cormoran gives Robin a gift...A game ensues.TROUBLED BLOOD SPOILERS LURK HERE...TURN BACK TO AVOID BEING SPOILED.
Relationships: Cormoran Strike and Pat Chauncy, Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott and Pat Chauncy
Comments: 23
Kudos: 94





	Stuffed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mcclinds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcclinds/gifts).



“Well I got him a radio controlled helicopter,” Strike muttered into his phone, frustrated at his sister on the other end. “And when Adam or Luke put in the work and get the grades Jack gets, then I’ll do something for them.”

“That’s not fair, Stick. I’m just saying, it would be helpful if you got something they could do together.”

“Yes, but then it wouldn’t be a reward for Jack’s achievements,” he responded absently as his eyes caught on a stuffed donkey, clearly meant to be for an infant, in a pile of stuffed animals gathered in a cylinder at the end of the aisle.

Reaching out, he picked it up, turned it over in his hand. It was small enough to be enveloped in his huge hand, but the material was soft and it was rather sweet looking.

He walked on, donkey clutched in his arm, smooshed against the boxed helicopter he’d selected for Jack. “If they want to play with his toy, they can ask. Jack’s a good kid. He knows how to share,” he resumed his conversation. “And besides, it’d do them some good to have to wait. You coddle them too much. And if they applied themselves they could get the marks Jack gets, and I’d do things like this for them as well.” Ignoring her gasp of outrage, he continued, “Listen, I’ve gotta go Luce. I’ll see you tomorrow,” and he rang off and stowed his phone in his pocket.

As he stood in the queue, waiting to pay, he went over the week's rota in his head. He was meant to be on early surveillance tomorrow morning, before Robin came into the office. He’d leave the donkey on her side of the desk for her to find.

It would be better that way.

No need to explain why.

She’d know anyway.

He smiled to himself as he ran his card, and accepted the carrier bag handed to him by the clerk.

His relationship with his partner had grown and deepened since her birthday a few weeks previous, when he’d taken her for champagne at the Ritz and they’d spent the evening together, talking and laughing.

It had been the first of the dinners they’d been sharing almost every evening since. They’d begun eating most of their dinners together, either in the office, at her flat with Max, at The Tottenham or in restaurants while maintaining a stake out on Two-Times’ still completely innocent girlfriend.

Touches were more frequent.

Kisses on the cheek punctuated the end of every evening.

And his heart was always lighter after time spent with her.

But that wasn’t anything new.

Not like the kisses.

* * *

“Morning Pat!”

“And a good morning to you! How was your evening?” Pat asked as Robin hung her coat on the rack next to the door.

“I reckon I got enough to prove that his wife was correct and he’s definitely cheating.” Robin shook her head.

“Poor woman,” Pat commiserated.

Robin nodded, as she picked up the post laying on the corner of Pat’s desk and flipping through it quickly.

“I hadn’t quite gotten to the mail yet this morning. The phone was ringing as I came in. You have an eleven o’clock with SB. He has another job for us apparently.”  
“No problem. I’ll go through it. Anything else I need to know about?”

“Nope. Mr. Strike is out on surveillance and then taking a meeting with a new client around four. Barclay is still on holiday. Michelle is at a doctors appointment and then picking up the tail on Princess after. And Hutchins had the overnight on Princess last night, so I’m sure he’s sleeping now. Just going to be you and me here today. Want me to order in lunch?”

There were days Robin wondered what the agency would have done without Pat. She always seemed to know what they needed, before they needed it, and was always willing to go the extra mile to make sure things ran smoothly for all five of the detectives.  
Even Strike had admitted, during dinner the other night, that the agency had profited under her management. And now that she’d learned to make his tea the way he liked it, he was happy to keep her on.

“I don’t know yet. Let’s see how we feel after talking to SB this morning. OK?”

“Sure thing,” Pat rasped.

Robin headed back to the office she shared with Cormoran now that she was a full partner. She was ripping open an envelope from the developer they were still negotiating with when she glanced up to see a stuffed donkey sitting in her chair.

It was small, obviously meant for a small child or baby, and as she picked it up, the soft fur reminded her of the fluffy socks she liked to wear when she and Max were relaxing in front of a movie.

Grinning widely, she set it on her desk, directly under her lamp so that she’d see it throughout the day and remember the day they’d spent together in Skegness, eating fish and chips, side by side, him teasing her about her mushy peas and singing The Song of the Western Men in his unexpectedly rich baritone.  
Barriers that had been there for years, now dust and rubble at their feet after the night he’d broken her nose and they’d drank whisky together in the dark office.  
He’d called her exceptional.

And rolled his eyes when she’d teased him about getting her birth chart done, since he already had his.

Standing by the sea that afternoon with him, the familiar smell of his cigarette smoke floating on the breeze as he’d stared out at the far horizon and told her that Joan’s favorite flowers had been pink roses...She’d understood he was thanking her.

For thinking of him.

Of Joan.

Of him.

She spent the rest of the day accepting the calls Pat deemed worthy to put through, answering emails, and refining reports she’d be presenting to clients later that week. She signed a new contract with SB during their meeting and celebrated by running out to get lunch for herself and Pat, which they’d eaten at Pat’s desk while discussing the details of SB’s new case.

And throughout the day, each time her eyes fell on the little grey donkey, her heart fluttered a little.

The same way it had the night he’d told her she was his best friend.

When she left the office that evening, the donkey was cradled in her arm, tucked behind a couple files she’d decided to carry home and look over while she ate with Max.

* * *

Strike arrived at the office after eleven the following day, having been meeting with a client to give them the final report and collect his final payment. It had been a good meeting, with a potential repeat to be determined in the following weeks.

He nodded a greeting to Pat, handing over the check he’d received for her to add to the accounts. “Could you put him on my calendar again for two weeks from today? Same time.”

“Ahh, a new regular,” she drawled.

“Always a good thing to have,” he chuckled as he flicked the kettle on. “Robin been in this morning?”

“You just missed her. She left not five minutes before you came in.”

“Tea?” he asked her as he reached for his own mug.

“No, thanks. Just finished a coffee Robin brought in.”

“Where’s she off to?”

“She’s heading to lunch with someone named Chiswell? And then she’s tailing Princess for the rest of the day.”

“Ahhh. That’s right.”

After the favor Izzy Chiswell had done them, Robin had promised to buy her lunch as a thank you. He suspected that Robin had actually become fond of Izzy during their time together at the House of Commons.

“I have a quick call to make, but I was thinking about running down to pick up something from Flat Iron. Would you like me to pick up something for you as well?” He’d done this a few times now, and he’d noticed that each time, it surprised the older lady; but after her admission, for that’s what it had been, that he’d reminded her of her first husband, he’d made a point of being kinder to her.

And he knew it made Robin happy to not have them snapping at each other.

“If you tell me what you’d like, I can forward the phones to voicemail and run down to get it. That alright?” she asked.

“You sure? I’m paying,” he cajoled.

“Oh, go on then. I’ll nip out, have a smoke, and pick it up. Just let me know when you know what you want.”

“I will,” he smiled. “Thanks, Pat.”

She waved a hand through the air dismissively, eyes already focused back on her computer monitor, as he carried his mug back to his desk.

He made his call, gave Pat his lunch order and his credit card to pay for their lunch, and started on his own reports for clients he’d be meeting with that week.

Turning to his computer he ran a few searches, made notes, and then stretched, and looked at the time. Quarter to six.

“Pat?” he called out.

He received no answer.

He’d been so engrossed in his work he hadn’t heard her leave.

He stood and walked out the front room, finding it empty. Pat’s desk was clear and her computer monitor was cycling through pics of her grandchildren and children.

After checking the door to make sure it was locked, he made himself a tea and went back to the office he shared with Robin.

He’d enjoyed the sharing of the office with her. Being able to look at her on the rare occasions that they were in the room together.

Her side of the desk tidy and straight, where his was orderly, but mildly cluttered.

He never minded being in the office with her, with the lamp on her desk shining in her hair and sparkling in her eyes. The scent of the perfume they’d chosen wafting around the room, lingering long after she’d left.

Maybe he’d text her, see if she wanted to grab dinner and go over their respective cases.

With Pat safely gone for the evening, he tugged open the drawer he kept his ashtray in, lighting a cigarette to enjoy while finishing off his reports. He reached in, with his eyes still reading the notes Robin had left in his email, and his fingers brushed something soft, startling him.

He glanced down and discovered the little donkey he’d left on her desk, tucked into his drawer. He picked it up and noticed that a tiny deerstalker hat had been added to the head.

And it smelled of Robin.

The woody scent of her new perfume rose and flooded his senses with the memory of watching her, in her blue dress, opal necklace shining against her collarbone as she’d grinned at him inside Liberty. Her hair had been pinned on one side and laid straight down her back, the ends just brushing against the lowered neckline that showed glimpses of her creamy skin, freckles winking as she walked and her hair swung.

He’d watched her as she’d wandered the perfume hall. Picking up bottles, reading the information listed for them with the same concentration she used when reading case notes.

He’d enjoyed watching her investigate the perfumes surrounding her.

Her face as she’d chatted with the assistant, though he hadn’t been able to hear what they’d discussed, had shone with delight and laughter, followed by a sharp grin as the assistant had led her to the other side of the room.

He had been free to admire her long legs, and how the heels she wore showed the curves of her slim calves. How the dress clung perfectly to her waist and hips, the bodice reached to just below her collarbone, which framed the opal he assumed was a gift, because he’d never seen it before today, and the back dipped low enough for him to wonder what it might feel like to brush that bronze hair aside and trace the freckles, first with his fingertips, and then with his lips.

She’d glowed with pleasure, standing beside him with the two strips of scent. Her smile had been soft and her eyes had held his as he’d sniffed each strip.

He’d never forget the sparkle when he’d declared his preference, and then teased her for thinking he'd choose the one that smelled like cake.

He felt heat beginning to reach his fingertips and realized he’d allowed his cigarette to burn down, almost to the filter, while he’d reminisced, captured in the scent of her.

He stubbed the cigarette out and pushed the drawer back in, then plucked the donkey from his desk and, gathering his wallet, phone and keys, carried it out of the office and up the stairs to his flat as he typed out a text to his partner.

Who responded almost immediately with an affirmative to his invitation to have dinner together.

* * *

Two weeks later, Robin pulled up to the curb in front of the Denmark Street building. It was dark, and misting rain, and they’d had a long couple days, trailing the husband of an investment banker, whose spouse thought he was selling the information he’d gleaned from him to a competitor.

They’d followed the husband to Stockton-On-Tees, only to discover that instead of selling secrets, he was overseeing the building of a home that he apparently planned to surprise his spouse with.

Not wanting to ruin the surprise for their client, whose husband clearly loved him, she’d convinced Cormoran to only tell their client that his husband wasn’t selling his secrets.

They’d stopped in Masham on the way back, at Cormoran’s insistence, where he’d taken her mother and father to dinner and charmed them both completely with stories about his Aunt Joan and Uncle Ted, Jack and their jaunts to museums and parades.

This relieved her greatly because, while Linda had never come out and asked her if she was seeing her partner, Robin knew she’d disapproved of him for ages and wouldn’t have been pleased to find out that they’d taken to having dinner together most nights, or that they’d started sharing stake out duty in the evenings.  
Strike had offered to keep her company the week after her birthday when she’d jokingly groaned about having to take her turn covering Princess, and she’d returned the favor when it had been his turn, and since then, if the other was free, they usually ended up together.  
Robin wasn’t sure whether to consider these dates or not.

But they felt like it most of the time.

The warmth between them, sitting in cafes, or the dark of his BMW or her Land Rover, was palpable.

Chatting about clients, or their subcontractors.

Strike sharing Jack’s latest achievement, his dark eyes shining in the dark, pride in his favorite nephew obvious.

Smiles were frequent.

Brushes of hands occasional.

And as always, cases were more enjoyable when they worked them together.

As a team.

Cormoran leaned over and pecked her cheek, before shoving open the door of the Land Rover and clambering down. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, as he was about to close the door.

“After I get some sleep.”

He yawned. “Yeah. Could do with some myself.” He grinned and scratched the back of his neck, then indicated the rear of the truck, “Just going to grab my stuff.”

“OK,” she stifled a yawn of her own, and closed her eyes, rolling her neck on her shoulders to ease some of the tension from the long drive back to London.

She felt and heard the rear door slam shut, and looked back over to see Cormoran wave and mouth, “Goodnight,” through the window on his way to the door to the building.

She waved back and, putting the truck in gear, pulled out and began her drive back to Earl’s Court.

Ten minutes later she arrived back at the flat she shared with Max, who was fast becoming a dear friend instead of just her roommate. She carried her bag into the flat, making cooing noises at Wolfgang, Max’s sweet tempered dachshund, who greeted her happily at the door.

She dropped her keys on the table in the entry way and bending to scoop Wolfgang up into her arm, she started down the hall toward her cozy bedroom. She dropped the bag on her bed and cuddled and kissed Wolfgang for a few moments, luxuriating in standing after so long seated in the Land Rover.

When he was finished accepting his well deserved pets and kisses, Wolfgang squirmed to indicate he was ready to return to Max’s room down the hall, and she set him on his feet, smiling as she watched him trot around her doorjamb.

She turned to her overnight back and unzipped it, intending to unpack and then brush her teeth and climb into bed.

However, there on top of her toiletry bag, his deerstalker hat perched jauntily on his head, was the donkey she’d snuck into Strike’s desk drawer, after adding the hat herself as a joking nod to their chosen profession.

Pinned to his paw was a note that read:

_Tag! You’re it._   
_C x_

And with a wide grin splitting her face, she set him on her nightstand so that she’d see him upon waking, and turned to set about unpacking and readying herself for bed.

And tried to figure out where to hide their new mascot next.

  
This felt like the subtlest kind of flirting.

Safe and sweet and funny.

And exactly like her partner.

**Author's Note:**

> The little donkey can be found [here](https://www.carters.com/s/Carters/carters-baby-boy-accessories/081787677968.html?cm_mmc=ip_Carters-_-Google-_-%7Bcampaignid%7D-_-_081787677968&gclid=CjwKCAjw-5v7BRAmEiwAJ3DpuBWY1j24balEVERMvQRneYjHFbllBQC-NDW5hkZ63ODadTLx9gpjghoCjZwQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds).


End file.
